#thorian

They are one.

All they have known for the many years they have existed is growth and survival. Spreading unending through Feros's soil. It's home, her home, their home. Time and years combine into one.

Her roots were here long before any other being had touched this planet’s soil.

It has stepped on planets far beyond it’s reach. Seen skies of unfamiliar colors, felt the light of suns so far away.

They are taken apart.

They are pieced back together.

Forever intertwined, forever one being. Not even death would erase one from the other. They are something more now.

Strings of thoughts, of emotions, twisted and twined into existence. A love so encompassing it could drown out everything else.

Mine.

Ours.

Yours.

One that is us. One that is you.

How can she be anything else now that she’s felt it.

How can it die if it still breathes.

Their roots run deep. They spread farther and farther and farther. Look at what I’ve given you. Look at what we are.

Every inch of this world feels our touch. It crumbles under our weight, grows under our touch. Life given, life taken away. The cycle repeats.

But one thing stays the same.

We are one. 

We are whole.

We are love.

We are alive.

WE ARE ALIVE.

Shiala wakes with a gasp of breath in the dark of night. She swallows roughly, staring up at the dull metal ceiling above her. She can still feel it.

The way her existence extends out further from herself. How she’s buried into the earth and climbing up through the cracking infrastructure. Miles and miles away. Goddess she feels like she’s everywhere at once on the whole damn planet.

She groans, sitting up and placing her head in her hands. Trying to right her thoughts, to center herself back into her body. The Old Growth is dead. She and the colonists have confirmed it over and over again.

But she can still feel it.

Feel the warmth of being held, of an embrace that refused to let go. Her mind stripped away inch by glorious inch until something other was stuffed inside. She had become more than herself. She still is more than herself.Even through the sense of loss and grief. How can she mourn for the thing that took away her sense of self? How can she yearn for something that only saw her as a tool?

But it didn't just see her like that. She was made a small part of it. Held and loved and known in a way she has never been before. Had never even thought possible.

Shiala wraps her arms around herself.